by C. A. Pack
Being mostly robotic helped wipe out petty differences among the sexes. Adventura and Romantica had been the first two realms created, and in the beginning, residents had often used the portal system to travel between worlds. Unfortunately, a schism occurred between the males and females of both planets because of a miscommunication before the start of the Two Millennia War. As a result, Romantica evolved into a female dominant realm, while Adventura became a world populated primarily by males. Members of the opposite sex continued to live on both worlds, but they were subservient and treated as nothing more than breeding stock and laborers. Those early inhabitants had been human. After the nuclear devastation, breeding was no longer important on Adventura, however survival was, so those who lived eventually evolved into hu*bots.
Regrettably, the Adventuran Library of Illumination fell into disrepair because hu*bots preferred to download information rather than learn it from books. All the information, previously stored in paper tomes, was uploaded to chips housed within the library walls. And since there were no longer any patrons to speak of, the library—for the most part—appeared neglected. It was maintained only as a shrine to knowledge, and the few books that remained were seen as archaic relics. Oddly enough, the curator remained a powerful figure, if only for his connection to the College of Overseers and his influence with his peers on other realms.
Adventuran overseer Artemus Rexana found the realm’s curator in one of the engineering labs.
“We are honored by your presence.” Prophet IAN c.’s voice lacked pitch and intensity because of his robotic voice box, yet his human brain guided the flow of his words, so his speech, while flat, sounded more natural than manufactured.
AR:∑ I’m not sure if you’ve realized yet that we have sealed off your Library of Illumination. I would have told you sooner but had to return to Lumi on an urgent matter. I hope the change did not affect your people too much.
Prophet IAN c. nodded. “You’re right. I’ve had no need to visit the library, so I’m not aware of the change. Are the Terrorians responsible?”
AR:∑ It would seem so.
“If they choose to make the same mistakes over again, must we, too, be punished?”
AR:∑ Not if you’re not involved, and I feel your society has evolved to the point where you would not chase the Terrorians into this particular wormhole.
“What can we do for you?”
AR:∑I have weapons of Terrorian design that I would like to leave here, in case they pay you an unwanted visit. Right now, Nero 51 is trapped in the portals, but he may eventually escape, and if he does, I’d like you to have adequate means to protect yourselves.
“What can the Terrorian weapon do?”
Artemus Rexana removed it from the folds of his robe and demonstrated its two abilities.
“We are not in need of their weaponry.” Prophet IAN c. pointed his forefinger at a chair sitting alone in a corner. A moment later, it disintegrated. “Like the Terrorians, we too can eliminate our enemies, however, we don’t need a separate weapon to do so. We developed this technology several years ago, and all Adventurans can now request this modification, if they can show need for it. Because competition among our technology laboratories is so heated, we have established a security force with this capability. I, and a number of town leaders, have already had the ability installed. It is expensive, preventing many citizens from requesting it. However, those of us who have already adopted this technology can protect ourselves adequately against interlopers.
AR:∑ I don’t suppose your technology comes with the more humane capability of capturing your enemy in a force field?
“No. But Adventurans have a highly developed ability to determine when someone is prevaricating—or trying to mislead. If someone chooses to lie to us, they deserve no better than the full force of this technology. However, if someone proves fair and truthful, no weapon is needed.”
AR:∑ And you’re saying a small number of your population already have this built-in weapon?
“I would say one-in-five Adventurans have this ability.”
AR:∑ That’s twenty-percent of the population. Not a small amount by any means.
“Perhaps not, but still a minority.”
The Chancellor of the Exchequer entered the Mysterian Town Hall and took a seat on the outermost circle of the main discussion pit. Sean of Oster wrapped up his lecture and immediately announced Mal’s presence, which was met with much more cordiality than his first visit.
The Mysterians explained their limitations in issuing coinage for payment of taxes.
Mal nodded. “Using up your most important natural resources to adopt an unnatural taxation system would place an undue burden on your society. However, you have no shortage of trees. Are your library books printed on paper?”
Sean retrieved a book laying on the innermost circle. “They are printed on a medium made from the ground root of the briars that are overly abundant here. It provides a fine material that is rolled into thin sheets and is impervious to moisture or decay.” He opened the pages to show Mal what he meant. The pages were smoother than paper, almost glossy, yet had a subdued tint that enhanced the contrast between the words and the page. “Is this expensive to manufacture?” Mal asked.
Sean laughed. “No. We have an overabundance of briars. Producing books,” he waved the one in his hand, “is our way of keeping invasive briars from encroaching on our cities.”
“Then might I suggest a paper currency? Each note could designate a specific amount of the natural resource it represents, without actually using up that resource. People could pledge the currency as taxes, or relinquish it in exchange for the resource it represents.”
Sean stroked his chin. “What would keep people from making their own currency?”
“Ah,” Mal sighed. “That is the trick. You would need a special ink or mark that is not easily duplicated to decorate your currency. I will speak to the overseers. They may have some ideas about resources not easily obtainable on this realm, but which could be imported from another world to make your currency unique. We do not wish to deprive you of what you need,” Mal continued. “However, we should have something in place to buffer the losses of future victims who may be deprived by war.”
“And if no war comes to pass?” Sean asked.
“Then nothing would be spent, and citizens would be reimbursed with currency they can trade-in to replenish the natural resources they need.”
“But the cost of creating such a currency is a loss of resources unto itself.”
Mal sighed. “Let me speak to the overseers. Perhaps they can shed illumination on another way of dealing with this matter.”
Surprised Dramaticans watched as Lenc ran up the Steppingstones of Illumination, chasing after Dungen. He finally got close enough to grab Dungen’s shoulder. “Right there, stop. Authorized, you are not, to carry beneath your cloak, the weapon you have hidden.”
Most of the witnesses scurried away, not wanting to be party to the confrontation.
Dungen sputtered as his face turned red. “Talk to me like that, how dare you? To protect myself, I am allowed.”
Ozzro emerged from a nearby shop, but ducked back into the shadows when he heard his countrymen arguing. He would enjoy watching Dungen get cut down to size. Dungen had treated Ozzro badly on several occasions. But he knew there would be repercussions if the head of the library council saw him standing there, so he remained out of sight but not out of earshot.
“Authorized to carry that weapon,” Lenc repeated firmly, “you are not. Confiscate it, I must.” He held up the palms of his hands to receive the weapon.
“Merely a boy, you are,” Dungen shouted. “Talk to me like that, you cannot.”
“A soldier, I am. A citizen, you are. The weapon, give me.” The boy was much smaller than Dungen, but his voice was firm and confident. “Now.”
Dungen unstrapped the weapon from beneath his cloak, but rather than handing it to Lenc, he fired it at the boy, vapo
rizing him.
Ozzro gasped, and flattened himself against the wall, praying Dungen had not seen or heard him. He had witnessed something unheard of on his realm—one Dramatican killing another. Get away with this, Dungen cannot. Protect myself, I must. But, tell others, I must, as well.
The question was, how? In what way could he let others know what Dungen had done, without it leading directly back to him?
Johanna opened the book Myrddin had instructed her to use to contact him. He spoke before she had a chance to say a word. “Have you caught the perpetrator who would steal my life’s work?” The wizard apparently didn’t believe in reacting to intrusions with subtleties like, how nice to see you again, or, what do you think about this weather?
“Right now, he’s trapped between the layers of space and time,” she answered. “But we’re afraid he might get out, and then we’ll lose track of him.”
“The layers of space and time…” Myrddin echoed. “That reminds me of being impressionably young. I amazed myself when I first discovered how to perform that spell.”
Jackson stepped forward so Myrddin could see him. “You know how to trap someone between the layers?”
“I do believe that is what I have said.”
“So then,” Jackson continued, “you must know how to release them.”
“Of course.”
“Which is what we want to do.” Johanna completed Jackson’s thought. “However, once they’re released, we want to be able to control where they reappear.”
“They will enter where they exited,” Myrddin said matter-of-factly.
Jackson grabbed Johanna’s arm with such force, she almost dropped the book she held. “That puts them back in our ball-park,” he said. “Because if Odyon is with him, they entered from this library. That’s what Ava saw. So we just have to wait for them and capture Nero 51 in a force field and Odyon in the black cube.”
“What makes you think I can capture Odyon now, when I wasn’t fast enough to capture him before?”
“Tell me about this black cube you speak of?” Myrddin demanded.
“It’s small but heavy, and the master of the overseers created it. It sucks in imperfect energy.” Johanna sighed. “But Odyon was too quick for it.”
“You speak of a very small, extremely dense object like this?” Myrddin extracted a cube from his pocket and held it out.
Jackson reached for it, but his hand sliced through Myrddin’s image. “He’s not real.”
“Of course he’s not real,” Johanna whispered. “You’re looking at a holographic image of the spirit of a dead man. He instructed me to use this book so no intruders could gain access to his memoir.”
“Right.”
“I designed this, of course,” Myrddin said, staring at the cube in his hand. “I would very much like to speak to the man who claims he created it for you.”
“You want to talk shop with Ryden Simmdry?” Jackson asked.
“Ryden Simmdry,” Myrddin repeated the name. The expression on his face clouded. “I must speak to this man at once.”
“Of course,” Johanna answered. “We’ve just got to get him here, first.”
Jackson looked at her. “Diary?”
“Diary,” Johanna answered.
“We are doomed,” Mope 98 cried, as the circle of kiddlets danced around him and Perog 2.
“Speak for yourself,” the other trooper said, as he freed the tip of a second tentacle.
“What do you think they are going to do to us?”
“I don’t know. At least they haven’t built a fire under us.”
Mope 98 moaned. “I don’t want to die!”
“Be quiet. You’re not acting in a way befitting a Terrorian, and I will have no choice but to report you to General Barzic 922.”
“I think there’s a rodent gnawing on my tentacle.”
“That’s me. I’m trying to find a way to undo these ropes and set us free.”
“How did you do that? I can’t move.”
“Neither could I, but I found a way to loosen the rope. I should just leave you here. Anyone who can’t help himself as a soldier does not deserve to live.”
Mope 98 tensed. “You would leave me here to die?” He felt himself getting angry and tried to turn to face Perog 2. One of the ropes that bound him snapped. He snaked his one loose tentacle around Perog 2 and shook him violently. “Why would you do that to me?” Another rope snapped, releasing one of Perog 2’s tentacles. He used it to push Mope 98 away. The two Terrorians wrestled with each other, and in doing so, more of their bonds gave way.
“The monsters are getting loose,” a young boy cried. “Where are the flamethrowers?”
“We left them in Town Hall,” a second boy answered.
Another rope snapped and Mope 98 found he was nearly free.
“Untie me,” Perog 2 demanded.
“Untie yourself,” Mope 98 said.
“They’re gonna eat us!” a little girl cried and started running away. The other Juveniles followed suit, screaming as they fled.
—LOI—
11
Pru Tellerence agreed with Furst and Dame Erato that the militia on Romantica should have uniforms to facilitate combat. Romantican women’s love of voluminous, soft fabrics in multiple diaphanous layers would not serve them well on a battlefield. Yet, Pru Tellerence knew their highly developed sense of self would make them turn their noses up at anything less than beautiful. The overseer watched their movements and noted the limitations of the garments they wore. A design started to form, almost subconsciously, and she hurried back to Lumina to discuss her ideas with the same tailor who had created the uniforms for Dramatica.
PT:★It is important, she explained, for the pieces to flow, yet not impede. Her design appeared Grecian in drape and feel. Light, silken fabric would drape from the right shoulder, across the bodice, and fasten at the left ankle. It would also drape from the left shoulder, crossing to the right side to fasten at the right ankle. It would give the appearance of a gown with a deep center slit. Beneath the gown, each militairre, as they asked to be called, would wear narrow pants that would fasten to the gown at the ankle. For their feet, she requested ankle-high animal hide boots that had to be both durable, yet flexible and comfortable, and she asked for them in shades of navy blue, light blue, or silver to complement the ombré shades of the uniform. The militairres would also be given a second dress uniform, completely white with gold dress boots. Over either uniform they would wear a crisscross harness fastened to a belt, designed to carry the decimator in a backpack, a quiver over the left shoulder, and a sheath for a dagger at the waist.
PT:★It’s imperative that we have them immediately.
“I don’t know if that is possible,” the designer answered. “We are still making uniforms for the Dramaticans.”
PT:★Can you make me prototypes? One of everything would do.
“I will work non-stop on it, if I must. I will have it for you before first light.”
Ozzro signed in for duty at the Dramatican military barracks. His platoon practiced shooting for a while and then went on to march in formation. During both activities, he asked various people, “Seen Lenc today, have you?” Each person he asked proceeded to ask others the same question. Most Dramaticans had an innate desire to help each other, and they wanted to let Lenc know Ozzro was looking for him. But it soon became apparent no one had seen Lenc. And the question continued to multiply as people realized the boy might be missing.
One of the military strategists approached Ozzro. “Invaders have Lenc, do you think?”
“Of knowing, I have no way. However, protected, Furst says the library is.”
“Looking for Lenc, why are you?”
“Homeless, the boy is. Share a meal with him, I want to. Now, worried, I am.”
“Here, Furst isn’t.” The strategist sighed. “Know what to do, he would.”
“In his place, in charge, who is?”
“Designated, no one has been. To
ld to carry on, we have been. Perhaps, Dungen, you should see.”
Ozzro’s ringlets tightened. “Talk to Dungen, I prefer not to.”
The strategist nodded knowingly. Ozzro had not been Dungen’s only recent target. “Speak to Pondor, I will,” the strategist said. “Know what to do, he will.”
“A good man, Pondor is. Wise,” Ozzro said. “Take after him, his son Dungen did not.”
Odyon leaned away from Nero 51. “I’d quite forgotten how vile Terrorian body odor is.”
Nero 51 did not respond. He considered Odyon nothing more than a curiosity. He cared little that the shapeshifter didn’t like the way he smelled. What he wanted to know was how Odyon had appeared in the time machine out of thin air. Nero 51 believed his unwanted passenger was the reason why he was stuck in the portals, and he thought if he could get rid of Odyon, everything would be put right again.
